I heard an interview with Stephen Wright about this book by one of my favorite reviewers, Michael Silverblatt, on his podcast at KCRW, “Bookworm” (Silverblatt does an excellent job interviewing authors.) Silverblatt raved endlessly about this book, stating that readers fall into two groups— those who like Jane Austen, while others prefer Mark Twain. Apparently Stephen Wright fans fall into the Mark Twain club. I didn’t know where I fell, since I like them both (actually, love Jane Austen, which should have told me something.) Anyway, based on his enthusiasm, I decided to read Processed Cheese.

What we have here is a wicked satire (too cliche, aren’t satires always wicked? Let’s say roguish.) about our current consumer culture. It takes the current situation to its logical extremes, with most everyone’s motivations being acquiring more and more money, more clothes, cars, useless things, food, etc. Also, sexual experiences are acquired, of every conceivable type and intensity. Oh, and drugs and booze. In some respects, it’s a disgusting book, if that is the logical end of this culture. It is a satire, however, so it has its laughable moments. In the right frame of mind, you may find this hilarious, in fact. Wright does have several clever ideas, such as the characters’ names, all consisting of objects and concepts; for example our protagonist, Graveyard, his wife Ambience, and Graveyard’s family, Carousel his mother, Roulette his father, brother SideEffects, and sister Farrago. And so it goes. The plot essentials are that Graveyard is hit in the head by a considerable bag of cash while walking down the street one day. A fabulously rich business man named MisterMenu was fighting with his wife, MissusMenu, when in a fit of anger, she throws the bag off their penthouse terrace, clunking Graveyard’s noggin.

Graveyard and Ambience, perfectly slothful folk, proceed to purchase everything they ever dreamed of, which is essentially comfort, food, nonsense, clothes, and a car. They start to spread the wealth to some friends, then finally to Graveyard’s family back in his hometown. Know that this cannot end well, and you won’t be disappointed. The plot really isn’t the point of this tale. Rather, it’s the skewering of consumerism that’s at the heart of this book. It has a Vonnegut vibe, a Joseph Heller feel. Sad to say, when I’m in the mood for that, I go back to read Catch-22, Good As Gold, Breakfast of Champions, etc. Those really do make me chuckle. This was probably too close to home. Wright gets it right, and that may make me ill at ease, making the laughs hard to come by. It is too close to the truth I see in our culture everyday, which just makes it sad for me.

Bottom line, I guess I’m in the Jane Austen club at this time in my life. I prefer her wry, witty social commentary. It’s easier to absorb at this time, when our culture is really a self-mockery. Course, ribald satire is hard to take, when the culture is already course and ribald. My humble opinion. If you are up for this sort of thing at this time, you probably can’t do better. You’ve been warned. It’s just not my cup of tea.